


Ice Bruises

by DeepDisiresLonging



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, slight injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21921382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepDisiresLonging/pseuds/DeepDisiresLonging
Summary: Holiday Trope: “we’re going ice skating for the first time this year and it’s pretty obvious that you’re secretly an Olympic figure skater or something how the hell are you so graceful you’re literally twirling around on one foot on a frictionless surface and I can barely make a left turn”
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Ice Bruises

“This is a bad idea.”

“No, it isn’t. Come on.”

Taking a step onto the ice, you breathed in the cold night air. The town had set up a rink this year. It was bedecked in colorful lights, shiny baubles, and fresh greenery. It had taken a minute to find your old skates, but they fit back onto your feet like nothing had changed. The blade glided across the ice. A comforting feeling like flying.

Then you remembered you weren’t alone.

Dean still hadn’t stepped out. His face was set, counting the ways he could step and fall. And his cheeks were pink. You had offered to buy him something warm to drink, but he refused. The flask in his pocket was supposed to be enough. But it’s hard to drink when both your hands have a death grip on the entrance rails.

“Dean?”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

You waited a minute. He still didn’t step out.

“Come on.” You skated over to him and took his hand. With a wobble, he placed a bladed foot on the ice. “I’ve got you. Come on; you’re almost there.” Once he had two skates on slippery ground, he reached for the railing that surrounded the rink. “Dean-“ you whined.

He grit his teeth and focused. “Hey, just because you’re a sugar-plum princess doesn’t mean that the rest of us mortals can do this.”

It took a while, but eventually, he made a full rotation around the rink. You took that time to get reacquainted with the ice. Hunting had gotten in the way of your usual winter practices. Not this year. Not when you had this chance. One, two, three. One, two, three. Gliding one step after the other, you warmed up your muscle memory. Then one foot left the ice. And you launched. You lifted your arms, letting the brisk air ruffle your jacket and scarf. You made a successful jump… and landing. A few people around the outside wall applauded, making you blush. Warmth in your cheeks, you skated back to Dean.

His mouth was parted with awe.

“How do you do that? It’s frozen water, I- I can barely make a left turn.”

A sassy reply was out of your mouth before you could stop it. “Being scared of the monster doesn’t kill it.” A Dean-ism that he hadn’t used in a while. You bit your lip. And glanced down at his skates. “And look, you’ve even got silver blades to help.” His sarcastic glare made you giggle.

“Har-har. We’ve skated. Can we go home now?”

You slumped. “Already? But- they don’t do this every year. I haven’t skated in-“ You sighed. “Are you really miserable?”

Dean took in your drooped shoulders. The way you worried your hands through the mittens. Your still glowing cheeks from your glides. He cleared his throat. “Not miserable, just… cold. I should have taken you up on- never mind.” Rolling his shoulders back, he fought to steady his footing. “Well, I got the darn things laced up. Might as well get my money’s worth. How do you walk in these things?”

First off, walking wasn’t really an option. He learned that eventually. And, as luck would give him, he didn’t fall for a while. When he did, it was because you fell first.

A child came whizzing towards you, panic on their face. You swerved to avoid getting hit. And caught your blade on a bump on the ice. You started to fall and reached out for Dean. Had it been non-frozen ground, he would have caught you. Instead, he fell with you. Both of you groaned as you sat up. The child was still moving, and waved back with a heartfelt “sorry.”

Dean waved back and started to laugh. “Kid’s really got the hang of it. Better than me-“ Then he got stuck. He licked his lips. Your cheeks were shining, your eyes bright. Your knitted hat was askew and you were damp from the landing. But you looked beautiful. And he breathed as much.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. With a wince, you stretched out the ache in your lower back. “And wet. Do you want to take a break?”

“Only if I can help warm you up,” he whispered in your ear.

Another warmth took over your body. Hell of an offer. “Deal. Shall we?” You rose and skated towards the ramp.

“Y/N?”

When you looked back, Dean was struggling to stand. You laughed. Once you’d helped him off the ice, you both warmed up with some steady-ground dancing under the festive lights. And then again later when you looked over his bruises at home. A few more shone on your body the next morning from where he’d gripped your hips so hard during the last “warming up” session.

He considered it well worth the cost of the skates.


End file.
